They could be the most somber, chilling words ever recorded: “because there was no room for them in the inn.” (Luke 2:7).

This great country, which calls itself “Judeo-Christian,” recognizes the divine in those who are poor, struggling or left out — those for whom there is “no room in the inn.” Pope Benedict XVI explains, “Love of God and love of neighbor have become one: In the least of the brethren we find Jesus, and in Jesus we find God.”

This Christian moral imperative flows from the prophets of Israel, who measured a righteous society not by income or power but by how the widow, orphan and alien were treated. This solicitude for the poor echoes among our Islamic, Buddhist and Hindu neighbors, as well as those of goodwill who do not profess a belief in God.

This beautiful season’s warm sense of sharing and charity brings out the best in us. Our churches and service organizations are in overdrive. The outpouring of compassion, food for the hungry and gifts for those in need is essential. But, soberly, still not nearly enough. Those who gaze in awe on the cave of Bethlehem also sense an obligation to make our nation more just, our economy more fair, our world more at peace.

At this time of economic turmoil, the poor too often seem to be missing from our national conversation and decisions. The poor reflect the face of the divine; the poor have a name. They are our neighbors, our fellow citizens. The poor, Dorothy Day noted are not “cases” but our cousins.

Some people who last year donated food, money and hours to our kitchens at Thanksgiving, Monsignor Kevin Sullivan, the director of our vast Catholic Charities network here in the Archdiocese of New York, told me, this year were standing in line, needing a meal.

The baby denied a bed at Bethlehem had a name, Jesus. Our poor have a name, and we cannot fail to find a place for them. Pope John Paul II, when he opened this millennium, reminded us, “The poor are not objects to be treated but agents of their own development.”

The legendary health care genius in St. Louis, Sister Isidore Lennon, would fuss at the admissions office. “We need to ask their names before we ask them what’s wrong,” she said, “we look in their eyes before we look at their insurance ID.”

So this Christmas I ask that we put the poor first. Every program or policy, every budget, tax or deficit proposal, must be assessed as to how it affects the life and innate human dignity of those who have no room at the inn. Their voices may be hoarse, and often shy, but their moral claims upon a nation boasting of “liberty and justice for all” are compelling.

Recent data reveal that close to 15 percent of our nation is now considered poor. What’s even more sobering, the younger you are in America, the more likely you are to be poor. One in five American children is growing up in poverty.

Meanwhile, we seem almost exclusively consumed with worry about how our policies will help or hurt the rich and middle class, rather than our poor, who struggle for basic necessities.

Those of us who are Catholic traditionally walk a middle course, via media, conscious that rarely are things “either-or” but more likely “both-and.” Thus we bristle at today’s polarization and bickering.

We are convinced that serving the poor demands both government responsibility and personal virtue. An emphasis on both the primacy of the family and a wider attention to the commonweal.

There is a need for both expansive, sweeping reform and a gritty preference for the small and personal; sticking up for both the freedom and rights of the individual and the realization that we’re all in this together, in solidarity.

The constants are a respect for all human life, especially the most vulnerable and fragile and what has been termed a “preferential option for the poor.”

On a recent visit to one of our inner-city Catholic schools, I met Carl, age 9, who told me that, in his home at Christmas, there’s always a candle in the window, alerting anyone in need that he or she is welcome inside. There is also an extra setting at the table, in case someone hungry comes in for a meal.

For Carl and his family, the poor have a face, a name, a place. There is a room at the inn.

That’s how America should be. We come closest to it this happy time of the year. A blessed Christmas!

Archbishop Timothy Dolan of New York is the president of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.